


gone are the days of begging

by misskatieleigh



Category: God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: There was a hole inside him, shaped like a smile same as his own.





	gone are the days of begging

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [rogueshadows](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows) for plotting and encouraging this nonsense. <3

“There’s someone at the end of the drive.”

Johnny looks up from the bale of hay he’s fighting with, forearms dotted with bright pinpricks of red where he’s pushed his sleeves up against the heat of the sun mixed with labour. He spares half a breath on a question, ducking down to smear his face against his sleeve. “Wha-?”

Gheorghe, leaning on his pitchfork and somehow ethereal with the bright sunshine outside the barn throwing him into shadow, points down the way. There’s a woman, standing next to some beat to hell station wagon. There’s also Nan, half out the kitchen door with a dish towel still slung over her shoulder. 

“Huh. Don't know. Nan’ll sort her. C’mon, want t’get the rest of this in today, ‘afore the rain gets at it.”

Gheorghe looks a moment longer, watching Nan’s progress across the yard. “She’s coming this way now.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Johnny trails off as he steps forward, momentarily blinded by the sun and then blindsided by the face that rings true with a memory from the back of his mind. 

“Mum.”

Gheorghe stands up straighter, setting the pitchfork against the wall of the barn and brushing his hands down the front of his jeans. “That's your mother?”

Johnny doesn't answer, because the woman is standing there now, shading her eyes and looking up into his face while Nan swarms like an angry hornet behind her, waiting for an opportunity to sting.

“Johnny.”

There's an urge, to step forward and touch her. Johnny shoves it down, into the dark space inside that he tries not to think about. He clenches his jaw once, rubs his hand back through his hair. “S’pose you'll be wanting tea, or summat. We'll go inside, a’least.”

Nan huffs in her particular disappointed way, makes a person feel keenly that they're in the wrong, though they can't sort why. There's a fleeting glance between her and Gheorghe, a conspiracy he doesn't have time to dissect. Finally, she throws up her hands. “Lord save us, let's get this over with.”

Johnny doesn't let himself slow down as he walks past, though he can feel her eyes run over him like it were a hand, both hot and cold at once. He wants Gheorghe’s hand pressed between his shoulder blades, anchoring him in place, but he still hasn't figured how to ask for that. He only knows to lean back into it when it's offered, to store up the feeling for the in between times.

Gheorghe and his mother follow behind, the low murmur of Gheorghe's voice a thread wrapped around his wrist that he wishes were a rope. 

***

Excusing himself for a moment, Johnny slips into the bathroom off the downstairs hall. He turns both taps on and splashes water on his face, twisting his head to one side to try and get under the faucet. He comes up dripping, no less red in the face, but cooler at the least. Johnny tugs the towel off the ring hung on the wall, the chrome circle swinging back to bounce off the plaster and making a ruckus at the same time. 

“Quiet you”, he says, “no time for that nonsense.”

He looks in the mirror. “You either. Don't make a fuss o’er nothing.”

Nan’ll be on his case over the mess, water on the glass and soaking into his shirt, though hardly distinguishable from the sweat ringing under his arms. He won't be ashamed of that, his hard work, Gheorghe's, it keeps their heads above water, plus a little besides. This is who he is, whether _she_ likes it or not. 

“Right, let's get on w’it then.”

***

When he comes out, Nan’s still fussing with the kettle, Gheorghe is standing beside the door pretending all hundred eighty eight centimeters of him can blend into the wallpaper, and his mother is perched on the edge of the living room chair, a bit of newspaper tucked between her fingers. 

Johnny doesn't pray, doesn't consider god in any sort of capacity day-to-day, but he echoes Nan on his head now, _Lord save us_. 

He sits on the couch, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Gheorghe, sit down already, you’re hovering like a bloody bumblebee.”

Nan raps him on the back of the skull as she passes, setting a tray of teacups and biscuits on the coffee table at their knees. “A bit of civility, if’n you don’ mind.” Gheorghe smiles though, which was his whole intent, the tension in his heart ticking back three steps.

Gesturing at the news clipping, Johnny says, “S’that then?”

His mother sets it on the table, tapping the clipped edges nervously. Johnny's face beams up in black and white, Gheorghe beside with one of the newer lambs held in his arms. The headline below reads _“Artisan cheese-making brings them a new slice of life”_.

“You've done all your growin’ while I was away. Almost didn't recognize you ‘cept for the ears.”

Johnny stiffens, biting back the words crowding the back of his tongue and trying to choke him. “Forgot they wrote that up. Our two minutes of fame as it were.” Gheorghe has come to sit next to him, leaving what feels like a chasm of distance between them which is in actuality only centimeters. Johnny wants to lean into him, draw out some comfort. He can't though, needs to face this on his own and they both know it. 

“So’s that all? Just wanted to see if it were me?” He picks up a cup and sets it down, sweeps his finger round the rim, jogs his knee. Gheorghe presses two knuckles against his ribs and holds them there.

“Not jus’. I've been missing you, as well. I wanted-”

He's standing before he even realizes he's moving, tea cup chattering forward and spilling a puddle of tea onto the table. “You know what, actually? No. I'm not...That's enough.”

It's maybe ten steps from there to the kitchen, but he can feel all three sets of eyes tracking him across the room, a hand on Gheorghe’s knee as he pushes past. The sink holds only the cooling remains of Nan’s abandoned washing up, certainly no answers for an almost twenty year heartache.

_(He came back from school, cut scabbing over across the bridge of his nose, itching to shout about his day. Except, it was silent suddenly, like everyone forgot how to breathe. Dad white knuckled around a glass in the kitchen, hunch-backed and eyes red. Johnny stopped in his tracks, backed up, slipped his boots off. He went out to the barn, where the new lambs were, still soft and clambouring for their mum's._

_There was a hole inside him, shaped like a smile same as his own._

_He fell asleep there, in the sweet hay with the lambs curling up the heat of his body. Round sundown, Nan banged in with a pail, grunting at the cows and sparing him half a look._

_“Right, Johnny boy, help us wit’ the beasts and all and I’ll get you your teas after. Gonna have to make do for a while, give your da’ a bit of a rest.”_

_Johnny climbed to his feet, tumbling one of the lambs off his lap. “Alright, Nan.”_

_“What’s happened to your face then?”_

_“Nowt. Some boys roughin’. S’fine.”_

_She nodded, and they settled into silence, feeding the cows and the sheep. They got up and got on with it, every damn day after.)_

Gheorghe comes up behind him, sets one hand against his back, right between his shoulder blades, then slides it down the length of his spine and around to grip him at the hip. 

“Are you alright?” 

Johnny straightens up and looks out the window and across the field, endless land and sky. “Will be, yeah.”

He twists around and into Gheorghe’s arms, catching his mouth in a kiss that’s more about comfort than anything else. Just, _hello, I’m here_ and the answering touch back. He pulls away and touches their foreheads together, listening to the indistinct whispering coming from the other room. 

“You want me to ask her to go?”

Sighing, Johnny shakes his head. “No, I’ll handle it. Thank you though, for offerin’.”

Gheorghe kisses him again, a little softer, pushing him back into the counter behind. “I’m going to finish with the hay, give you some time, okay?”

Johnny nods, letting go and leaning back to brace himself on the counter. Then Gheorghe is gone, and his mother is standing there, smiling at him sadly. 

“He’s a good one, there? Kind ‘n all that.”

Johnny bites his lip, gnawing at the edge. “He is, yeah. Better’n I deserve mostly, but I’ll hold onto him while I can.”

She leans against the doorframe and gives a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t think your da’ ever felt that way about me. Might had tried harder to stick around if he had.”

“Right, sorry I wasn’t enough incentive for you to stay, Mum. Thanks for that.” Johnny drags a hand across his face, scrubbing at the stubble starting to grow in. “Why’re you here? Do you want money or summat, ‘cause we haven’t got much to spare even wi’ the cheese.”

She steps forward, stopping short when he looks up at her, face wet with tears. “No, I just...I just wanted to see you. Make sure you’re alright ‘n all.”

“Well, now you’ve done. I’m fine, no thanks t’you. Got on with things and made it this far, despite my own attempts to fuck m’self over. Y’didn’t need me then, and I don’ need you now.”

“That’s quite enough.” Nan’s voice cracks at the end, a break in her steadfast resolve as she comes into the kitchen, drawn by his voice rising in volume. Johnny’s mother looks stricken, eyes wide and red around the rims, mouth drawn to a thin line. “She might deserve that, but she’s still your mother, so we’ll have a bit of respect.” Nan turns on her then, directing that focus elsewhere and leaving Johnny short of breath. “As for you, I think we’ve had enough visitin’ for the day. You’ve given this family more’n heartache for this lifetime, can’t just take back the past.”

Mum shrinks in on herself, tears running down her flushed face. “You’re right,” she whispers, “I shouldn’t have come.” She hesitates for a second, eyes darting between Nan and Johnny, then turns and heads toward the door. 

Johnny closes his eyes. Watching her leave might actually be worse than finding out she left the first time, his throat closing up at the thought. He pushes off the counter, past Nan and out the door before the reasons not to can flood in. 

She’s halfway down the drive when he catches up to her. “Wait, Mum...please.”

Turning and squinting into the afternoon sun, she wraps her arms around herself defensively. “I’ve said I’ll go, won’t bother you no more if that’s what you want.”

“No, I...Christ, Mum. I never got t’say goodbye t’you before. I just...fuck. Don’t even know what I want anymore.”

She pulls a hand free and lays it on his arm. “Oh, Johnny. I’ve done this all wrong, haven’t I? I never…I never wanted t’hurt you.”

“Well, you’re shite at that, alright.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t know how t’be happy here. Couldn’t imagine taking you with me either, away from your da’.” She looks down, at the dust she’s kicked up covering her shoes, fresh tears dropping down onto them. “I’d like a chance to get t’know you though, if you’d let me.”

Johnny swallows past the lump in his throat, around the hole in his chest. “I might need some time. Least some warning, anyhow. Can’t just show up, you know?”

“I know.” She bites her lip, squinting up at him. “You look like him, like your da’. Not sure how you got this tall though.”

Johnny lets half a smile tug at his mouth. “Nothing else to do out here but grow. Drove Nan nutters too, trying t’keep up with my pants.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and digging through for a card. “Gheorghe said we should have these, not that anyone calls for anything, but…” He holds the card between two fingers and waits for her to take it, her small soft hands in contrast to his larger rough ones. 

“‘Saxby-Ionescu Sheep’s Cheese’,” she reads. “Brave you, putting his name on there.”

Johnny smirks a little. “Yeah, had t’fight him a little on it. S’his cheese though, only fair that he gets the credit for it.”

She tucks the card into her pocket, then hesitates a moment. “Could I give you a hug? Or is that too much...I don’t want to push.”

Johnny breathes for a second, then nods. “No, that’s...that’s alright if you like.”

She slips her arms around his waist, the top of her head reaching up to his chest as she turns her cheek against him. Johnny lets one arm settle around her, but can’t bring himself to pull her into the embrace that he would offer Gheorghe. Not yet, at least.

She pulls away, wiping at her face with her sleeve. “I’ll call, okay. In a week or two. Go from there, yeah?”

“Alright,” he says, then watches her get in her car and back out of the driveway, brake lights flaring red before they fade away.

He turns back toward the barn. “Alright, you soppy bastard, I know you’re watchin’ the whole thing so come out here already.” 

Gheorghe steps out of the shadow of the barn and shrugs. “There was yelling. I wanted to make sure you are alright.”

Walking closer, Johnny leans into Gheorghe’s space, breathing in the sweat smell of him undercut by the hay caught in his clothes and the ever present smell of the animals. Gheorghe’s arms come up around him, folding Johnny against his chest.

Part of him believes in this thing they’ve built together, a growing business and his own heart slowly accepting Gheorghe’s affections. Another part is just waiting for it to all disappear, probably destroyed by his own doing, but gone all the same. Nothing good has ever lasted very long. 

He turns his face against Gheorghe’s neck. “Just tell me if you’re going to go please, I promise I won’t go after you. I just...I need to know. Last time I deserved it, but…”

“John, stop. I’m not going. This is my home now, here with you. With Deirdre and the dumb sheep. Besides, you will mess up the cheese without me.”

Johnny laughs, and kisses at Gheorghe’s neck, right under his ear. “Oh ta, you’re a sweet one, aren’t you. Compliments and cruelty all rolled up.”

Gheorghe pulls him closer, hands strong and sure on his back. “We stay together, and everything will work out, I think.”

It might. He doesn’t have much experience with things going his way, but he’s willing to fight for this life, if he has to.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'between two lungs' by florence and the machine. 
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://misskatieleigh.tumblr.com)!


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